


Blanket of Snow

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BoFA, Character Death, M/M, not quite canon BofA ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2014-02-07
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:16:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of the Five Armies Dwalin remains on the battlefield to hold an injured Nori and wait for somebody to come and get them</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blanket of Snow

The battle had stopped around them and Dwalin could feel the silence settle down over the battlefield like a blanket, as it had so many times before, as it had done each time he had witnessed the end. He hadn’t actually been fighting the last of it, the enemy had retreated and was fought off by the Elves and Eagles further down the valley than he had cared to run to, the Dwarves were not needed to chase of the last of the surviving foes.

The ache in his shoulders wasn’t as painful as he remembered it from the last times he had spend the entire day fighting with his axes, but perhaps he still was too exhausted to feel it. It certainly wasn’t painful enough to lay Nori down on the ground to not have his small weight cradled in his arms.

Perhaps it wasn’t wise to hold somebody who was injured, but Dwalin had run his hands over Nori’s neck carefully to check, and apart from old crusted blood there wasn’t anything wrong and he _was_ sitting very still as he waited for Nori to regain consciousness. 

Dwalin stared out over the field, all of him feeling weirdly numb as his eyes wandered over the scenery not really seeing what was going on, and not feeling much at all, though there had been blood on his arms before. Injuries he hadn’t felt in the battle haze and which he was too tired to look for. If it didn’t hurt and he wasn’t getting dizzy it probably wasn’t anything lethal either way.

He didn’t really see anyone he might have recognized in the few shapes that passed by close enough, though Dwalin was sitting close to some large rocks and there barely was anyone there anyway. He saw the carcasses of wargs, and the discarded and dented armour of somebody taller than a Dwarf, all lying in the freezing mud, and sometimes he saw shapes that were too tall and too thin, or Dwarves he didn’t know or care for.

Once or twice he thought he heard somebody call his name, but he hadn’t been sure where the voices even came from and as he didn’t respond they left him be.

It was getting cold, as he wasn’t moving and didn’t have a coat to keep out the winter chill. He sat down a little more comfortable and pulled Nori closer against his chest, trying to cover the smaller Dwarf with his own body and his arms. Being unconscious he was more vulnerable to the cold after all, and it wouldn’t do to have him fall ill when he was already weak and there probably wouldn’t be any medicine or comfort to be had for that. 

There would be many injured and dying to take care of, it was best not to make the situation worse for the healers, and best not to rely on limited supplies if they could help it.

Not that Dwalin cared much for those who had died around him, not for the Men, not for the Elves and not really for Dwarves that had fallen in the fight against the Orcs and Goblins and the armies crashing against the Lonely Mountain. He simply had no energy left to mourn them, to mourn even those he cared for and loved, though he knew that he would do so later, when the battle wasn’t that real before his eyes.

He had seen them all fall, he had seen Thorin fight, too far, not close enough for Dwalin to reach even if he tried and there wasn’t anyone blocking his way, he had seen Fíli and Kíli, those brave and foolish boys, fall as they managed to get there and defend their uncle. They were gone. And Thorin was gone, none could have survived this many arrows and spears.

Dwalin would feel the impact of that later, as it had happened before, at Azanulbizar when his father and his King had fallen, along with many of his kin. Right now there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

The last time he had had things to do, comforting his brother and making sure he would be all right, and helping look through the fallen to see if there were some who still could be saved but could not get up by themselves.

It might be best to do that now too, but there hadn’t been _that_ many who fell in this battle, and it had lasted far less than the one before the gates of Khazad-Dûm had. And frankly, Dwalin still couldn’t be bothered to get up after the exhaustion from before and let go of Nori as long as he was still. And he was afraid he would stumble and fall if he tried to carry him, with how numb everything felt.

So Dwalin just sat there and waited, trying to shield Nori from the cold and brushing his thumb over his cheekbone, hoping that Nori would somehow feel it and be comforted in his unconscious state.

The snow had started to fall again, more than before and slowly the mountainside above them and the far ends of the battlefield started to be covered by a think blanket of snow.

Some flakes landed on Dwalin’s bald head and normally he would have brushed them off or pulled a hood over his head, but now he had none and the sudden movement would have jostled Nori too much, so he just ducked his head a little and leaned over Nori to keep the snow from landing on him.

Dwalin watched the still form of the thief for a moment, looking over the mud stained armour he had helped him pick what seemed like ages ago. Nori had liked the way it suited him, had been satisfied with Dwalin’s suggestions based on what he knew of Nori’s preferred weapons and fighting style.

Nori had smiled when Dwalin personally fastened all the pieces of his gear and chainmail, in a grim yet still mischievous way, and he had pressed a brief kiss to the corner of Dwalin’s mouth, betting him that he would be the less injured one as he wasn’t as careless and stubborn as Dwalin. He had suggested that the one with the most bruises should pay for a barrel of ale once all was over, and he had reminded Dwalin to take care.

They had held one another, just standing still and feeling each other’s breath against their skin, before they had to re-join the company and go out into the field to fight.

Dwalin had been near Nori throughout most of it, always making sure he could still see him in the brief moments in which the fighting slowed down just a little, or there was no foe within easy reach of his hammer or axes. And Nori had always been there, fighting viciously, uncaring for minor cuts on his arm and not slowing down until the moment Dwalin found him already staggering to the ground. 

He hadn’t even seen what happened to Nori, but it was after the tide had already turned and the orcs and goblins had started to flee, so it was easy to get to him, and easy to just old him without worrying that they would be attacked and Dwalin would have to let go and defend him.

He wasn’t even sure how long ago that had been, but Nori was lucky that Dwalin had found him so soon and that there already weren’t any enemies around, losing consciousness on the battlefield might lead to being overlooked by everyone, it could also lead to being slaughtered by particularly cruel foes or be trampled.

Dwalin had checked for knots on Nori’s head but he wasn’t sure if he’d find anything. It didn’t really matter, he had also fainted before and not always had there been bruises or lumps from injuries. At times he was out of it for longer, and he even suspected that Nori might just be asleep a couple of times. He didn’t try to wake him though, deciding that it wasn’t worth risking Nori waking up just to be exposed to pain.

Dwalin was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice anyone approaching until they were just a few feet away. He looked up from Nori’s face reluctantly, seeing Bofur standing there, leaning on his mattock with a defeated expression. He looked so tired, as tired as Dwalin probably, though he didn’t feel it really.

The miner gestured at the two and said something, but Dwalin couldn’t hear what. He followed Bofur’s gaze to see who else had approached them, noticing his brother and feeling a very brief moment of relief at seeing Balin alive, and Glóin, Dori and Ori right behind him.

He wanted to call them over, ask them to fetch Óin maybe, if he had made it, or just about any healer, but that probably shouldn’t be necessary with how he was cradling Nori in his arms, surely it was obvious that help was needed.

They came closer carefully, Balin and Glóin approaching them before they were a few steps before Dwalin, both looking down at him wide eyed, while Bofur remained where he was, pulling his hat lower into his face, and Dori and Ori both trembling but not coming nearer than a few tiny steps.

“Are you hurt?” 

Balin’s voice sounded so cautious, and he still hadn’t come closer, as if he thought that Dwalin might do something, or break at the slightest touch. And what a stupid question that was…

“’m fine, nothing hurts, just tired… But Nori… We need help, I don’t think I can carry him on my own and I’d rather not carry him hallway, ‘would just disturb him.”

He noticed how Balin’s eyes widened even more as he said that, and his gaze flickered to Nori briefly, staring at him for a few seconds before looking back up at Dwalin and then over his shoulder to share a concerned look with Glóin.

“How long have you been sitting here, Dwalin?” he asked, and they were all staring at Nori now, as if they hadn’t seen him before. 

Why were they just _staring_ , didn’t they see that he needed rest and warmth?

“The battle was just ending… Can somebody get a stretcher maybe, or a coat? It’s freezing and he’s always catching colds, too.”

Dwalin swayed a little where he sat as he said it. He really _was_ getting tired to sit here, though he’d have endured many hours more if it meant that someone was holding Nori while he wasn’t conscious, and kept him from the cold.

They were still staring at him, Dori holding on to Ori who looked like he wanted to weep or run towards were Dwalin and his other brother were sitting. Poor lad, he had probably seen what had happened to the princes, had probably never lost anyone who was that close to him in such a sudden way before. Seeing Nori like this probably wasn’t helping much either, though the idleness of everyone was beginning to annoy him. Couldn’t they stare at them later, when Nori was securely tucked away under a layer of furs in some healer’s tent.

He glared around and looked to Balin for help, as usually his older brother knew what he wanted to say when he was too tired to think of words, and he also knew what was best.

Balin was still staring at him, unmoving. His eyes kept turning to Nori and then he glanced back to where Glóin was standing and Dori was making some staggering steps towards them, after having pushed back Ori to stay with Bofur.

“Dwalin…” he reached out, palm up and still looking so very cautious, like Dwalin was a wild beast that might be startled and lash out, never before had he done that to him.

“Dwalin… can you maybe, put him down? Just for a moment, we need to see what happened to you.”

Dwalin’s arms slackened for just a moment, before he pulled Nori a little closer to his chest again. They surely didn’t expect to be able to carry Nori back like that, even if his weight was easy to handle, it wouldn’t be comfortable for anyone, even unconscious.

Balin didn’t retreat his hand though he did look like he wanted to, while somewhere Dori made a stifled little cry.

“It really would be better if you let go for now, please!”

“You can’t carry him like this” Dwalin replied and stubbornly held on.

Balin straightened his back a little, his face unreadable, while Dori was walking closer, nearly within reach now.

“Please, let me see?” Dori was so pale, Dwalin wondered whether he might be wounded, too, though he didn’t see any obvious injuries. Still, the way everyone was behaving… He glared and didn’t move an inch. Both Balin and Dori were staring back at him, Balin looking increasingly tired and Dori’s lips trembling.

“Don’t be like this, just step back, please.”

“You can’t carry him.”

“Dwalin…” Balin seemed to be sinking into himself, and again Dwalin couldn’t tell what that expression meant.

“No.”

“My brother, give him back, give him back to me!”

Dori’s voice sounded like he was holding back sobs, but Dwalin couldn’t just do this out of pity, the older didn’t look like he would be too gentle in his exasperation.

“I won’t, you’d hurt him” Dwalin insisted and edged away from the others.

Dori’s eyes darted from Dwalin and Nori to Balin, then he let out a small desperate cry and made a move towards the kneeling Dwarves, stretching out his hand as if to grab Nori and pull him away out of Dwalin’s hold by force.

In an instant Dwalin let go of Nori with one arm and grabbed his axe with a snarl, swinging it at Dori, who only barely managed to stumble backwards and out of the way.

Glóin was there to catch and support Dori, who didn’t look like he was able to stand on his own anymore. They all stared at Dwalin, pale, wide-eyes and somewhere Ori now was openly weeping, but Dwalin couldn’t make himself to care, he had to make sure none would hurt Nori in their mindless worry.

Balin was the first to speak again, carefully coming closer and within Dwalin’s axe range with his palms raised.

“You will hurt yourself, please just don’t move anymore. I will make sure to get Óin, or some uninjured healers to bring Nori to safety on a stretcher. Is that what you wanted, yes? But you will have to let go once they’re here, they know what they are doing they will take Nori back safely, do you agree?”

Dwalin shrugged and put the axe down next to him again. He really didn’t care as long as it was done quickly and they would stop behaving like they did. Balin gave him one last look before turning to Glóin and whispering something with him. Bofur and he remained where they were, but his cousin and Dori and Ori walked away and towards the mountain to fetch the healers. Dori was shaking a little but he placed an arm around Ori’s shoulders and gently wiped away his tears as they walked.

Dwalin spared a few moments to watch them while ignoring the looks Balin was still giving him. Then he turned his head back to see how Nori was doing. He had been stirred in the commotion, but otherwise he was doing as fine as Dwalin could tell with him still being unconscious.

Some snowflakes had managed to settle on Nori’s face, sticking to his skin and eyelashes. It looked pretty, with the white ice on Nori’s pale cheeks, and Dwalin couldn’t help but smile as he gently brushed them off with his thumb. 

There was some snow in Nori’s hair too, and it might melt or stick to it later, making a mess, but Dwalin could barely get that off without tangling Nori’s braids in the process, and as he knew how much Nori would complain later he just let it be and pulled him closer to keep more snow from getting on him.

When the stretcher finally came Dwalin was still sitting like this, caressing Nori’s face and hoping that he’d wake up soon. It might take longer, now that they had been in the cold for so many hours, but as soon as they were somewhere warm he’d get better.

Balin approached him carefully, as if he thought Dwalin would attack him, and reminded Dwalin to put Nori down. Dwalin did so without complaint, placing Nori on the stretcher and getting up as the healers secured him there and lifted him to carry him away.

He was a little shaky on his feet, but Dwalin managed to get his balance back in time to join the healers and match the stretcher in its pace. Nori’s left hands was falling from the stretcher, just within Dwalin’s reach, so he took in, to rub it soothingly and to get some warmth back into it.

Dwalin walked like this the entire way back to the mountain, eyes on Nori’s face, and he was sure that Nori’s fingers curled around his unconsciously, as they always did when Nori was asleep. It was comforting and Dwalin smiled as he squeezed back, only letting go when they reached a large tent and Nori had to be carried away for Óin to take a look.

 

*-*-*-*

Balin hadn’t been sure what to expect when Bofur arrived among the tents and said that he had found Dwalin and Nori, and that Nori just couldn’t be alive the way he looked, while Dwalin was… not well. 

First Balin had felt the dread of losing his younger brother the same way he had already lost three of his dearest kinsmen and his King and oldest friend, but once Bofur had assured him that Dwalin wasn’t in a life-threatening condition he had felt a brief wave of relief and then the weight of losing another member of their company settle down on his shoulders.

Both Dori and Ori had insisted on coming along, though everyone tried to make Ori stay behind. He didn’t need to see it, and he already had lost two of his friends, there was no need to be confronted with only having one brother now. The scribe had glared at them all, eyes filling with tears but not quite crying yet, so they took him anyway.

None had expected to find Dwalin in the condition he was in, none had really believed that it really could be as bad as Bofur had made it seem. But Dwalin was just sitting there in the frozen mud, blood and dents all over his armour and a tired expression, holding on to Nori as if he was holding a wounded comrade. 

And Nori was so still, his face was as white as the snow that had begun to fall and there was dark blood in his clothes, right over his stomach. 

Still Balin had hoped that Dwalin was tired or _just_ in shock. He had hoped his brother might be grieving, he had seen him roar at the sight of his kin falling, too far away to help, and of the fallen only Nori was where Dwalin could reach in his condition.

But the way Dwalin reacted, the way he had nearly cut Dori’s hands of with his axe when they tried to take Nori away, and when Balin carefully made sure he would remain calm and went to fetch healers he still held on to Nori as if he really was asleep.

Now that Nori was lying on a cot, with his armour and most layers of clothes peeled off of his cold body it was obvious that Dwalin was not just unaware of what had happened.

He had held Nori’s hand the entire time, muttering things that seemed to be soothing words directed at the smaller Dwarf, but when Balin cautiously asked him what he was saying, Dwalin had just stared at him in confusion before turning back.

“Let us go and have someone take a look at your wounds, brother” Balin had said in a gentle tone before leading Dwalin away to let the healers take care of Nori’s body. “Let them do their work undisturbed.”

Óin had taken a look at Nori’s wounds and then he told anyone who would listen that Nori had died near instantly from the stab of an Orcish sword, that he hadn’t suffered at least, but that he had been dead for hours, that he must have fallen within the last hour of the battle.

It barely was a comfort to anyone, though Ori managed to speak through his tears and say he was glad that Nori didn’t get one of the injuries that left one conscious of the pain for too long. Dori didn’t say much at all, he only leaned on his brother, his face ashen and his hands trembling. Balin took it as a sign that Dwalin was doing worse than he had believed, as he had thought Dwalin had perhaps held Nori while he still had been alive.

Ori and Dori were allowed to enter the tent on their own then, somebody had brought them clean cloth and hot water, so that they could wash the dirt and the blood of their brother and brush his hair one last time. They could mourn him then, and make their farewell in privacy.

Dori barely was able to stand up as Ori lead him inside, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, and Balin watched them go with a heavy heart.

None wanted to disturb them at it; they were as close as family, but this still was not something anyone but the closest kin should be around for if the circumstances allowed privacy. Óin went to see where else his skills might be of use, and Balin turned to go and see how his own brother was doing.

Dwalin was lying on his own cot, alone in a tent with the worst of his bruises and cuts bandaged, and not leaving as Óin had insisted that his knee was hurt too much for him to walk around safely. Balin suspected that it wasn’t quite true, even if Dwalin was injured, but that nobody wanted to risk him doing something unexpected while they didn’t know how he would behave.

Balin sat down at his side, watching Dwalin slowly turning his head to him from where he was staring at the ceiling. 

“Everyone all right?” Dwalin asked and Balin could only give him a small tired smile.

“Most of us. You’ve seen Fíli and Kíli fall?”

“Yes, and Thorin, too. Did they make it?”

Balin shook his head and watched Dwalin for sings of distress.

“No, the boys were dead near instantly, and Thorin died even before we found you. He was calm in the end.”

Dwalin didn’t seem surprised by the news, as if he really hadn’t expected them to survive unless by some miracle.

“Everyone else is fine or resting from the exhaustion now… But Nori…”

Balin carefully placed his hand on Dwalin’s wrist and leaned closer, despite the slight chance of his brother lashing out again. He needed to comfort him now, needed to help him with this.

“Nori died, Dwalin.”

Dwalin didn’t look away or say something to that, so Balin went on.

“He was already dead on the battlefield, there was nothing anyone could have done to safe him. I am sorry.”

Dwalin was still staring at him, though his eyes were losing focus.

“The healers…” he finally muttered. “Nori wasn’t wearing anything warm under his armour, he might fall ill from that alone. Tell the healers that they should think of that and bring him more blankets.”

Balin felt something cold seep through his chest but he forced a smile as he patted Dwalin’s hand.

“I will.”

He stood up and Dwalin relaxed a little at the promise and closed his eyes. Balin waited for a little bit, watching his brother, before he turned to leave and find the rest of the company. 

Something like this had happened before, he had seen it many times after Smaug’s attack, or with young soldiers and their families after the war against the Orcs, Balin had seen them denying many things and memories that were just to painful or horrible, and sometimes there was nothing anyone could do about it. Sometimes it was even kinder to not force it.

Perhaps it had all been too much for Dwalin. Memories of the war and Azanulbizar seeping through the surface as they fought again, right after confronting Smaug, and then losing his King and the two princes he had helped raise. Losing a dear friend and his lover might have been just too much. 

Balin wasn’t sure what to do about that, or whether he even _wanted_ to. On the long run it might be better to have Dwalin _know_ than to needlessly spare him the truth. Though hopefully this was only temporarily and once Dwalin had slept off the exhaustions of the battle his head would be clear once more?

Dwalin didn’t speak much the few times Balin returned to the healers’ tents that evening, mostly he was asleep or too tired to really have a serious conversation, and Blain did not push the matter. Wanting to find out whether his brother was fine wasn’t so important as to stop him from resting his body after all.

At night when nearly everyone was asleep Balin decided to check one last time, before leaving the healers to it, only to find that Dwalin’s bed was empty. His coat and boots weren’t standing where he had left them either, so Balin went to try and find his brother.

He wasn’t anywhere near the healer’s supply wagon, and not at one of the fires where some tired Dwarves were preparing stew.

The last place Balin though to search before returning to the Lonely Mountain and see inside, was Nori’s tent. It was only occupied by him after all, one of the smaller ones that nobody really needed.

There was a dim light coming from inside as Balin approached it, though he was sure that Dori and Ori had left after sunset. Pulling back the tent flap Balin peeked inside, and there he saw them.

His brothers had done a good job of washing of the mud and the dirt from the battle, and had even brushed out Nori’s hair nicely, leaving it in a simple braid as was appropriate for such a situation. They had left him for now, unwilling to prepare him for an actual burial for as long as they hadn’t found their family’s old site.

Like this and with the bad light Nori really looked like he was only sleeping, if one did not look too closely.

Dwalin was sitting by his side, and he was smiling slightly, holding on to Nori’s hand with one of his, the thief’s slim fingers completely covered by Dwalin’s. He was talking quietly, and his tone was conversational, light and though Balin couldn’t make out a single word he was reminded of his mother. She had been like that when one of them had been ill, just sitting there and talking to them, always making them feel better just with her presence.

The hand that was not holding Nori’s was gently brushing over his cheeks and hair.

It was so much like all was normal, Balin could clearly imagine how it should have been, could imagine Nori shifting under the blanket and complaining about the pain and how he was tired of it, could see how Nori smiled up at Dwalin and called him an old sentimental sod, and how Dwalin laughed it off and continued being by his side and brushing his hair with his fingers.

It wasn’t like this though, Nori wasn’t moving, and never would again, and Dwalin’s hand was wrapped around one that was cold as the mountain’s stones.

And still Dwalin smiled, there was no sign of sorrow on his face while he looked at Nori, there was no sign at all that he realized what he was seeing there.

It nearly turned Balin’s stomach to see it, and to realize that Dwalin was not simple fatigued and not thinking clearly. There was nothing he could do about it, there was no way to make his brother understand if he was already so deep in denial.

He would not understand if somebody were to explain it, he would not care for the evidence, already did not care that there was no breath on his Dwarf’s lips and no heartbeat underneath his hands.

Balin’s fingers clenched around the fabric of the tent’s flap for a moment, and then he released it, his hand falling to his side weakly. The tent closed again, hiding his brother from view. 

A part of Balin still wanted to hope that all would be good, that his brother would eventually see the truth and that he would be there for him as he grieved. But the larger part knew that hardly anyone saw reason if so much time had passed, and only few of those he had known ever really understood.

With the weight of an entire lifetime of the causalities of war settling on his shoulders Balin turned away from where his brother was and slowly made his way back to the mountain.

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when you get an idea, then start writing five minutes later without thinking it through and then have too much done to abandon it the next day  
> also I always wanted to have a someone who's not one of the Durins dies in the battle thing  
> sorry?
> 
> edit: it now has a sort of Sequel 'Pillows in the Thaw' http://archiveofourown.org/works/1178576  
> ... I'm not good at titles


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